I nod, just like every session, as Jacy pours a glass and passes it to me, peering over her bright green cat-eyed glasses. “You seem tense today. Update me on what has been going on.” Her soft eyes and expression meet my own.
I lean back and look at the ceiling. “I think I’m going insane. I keep seeing these masked men, and the truth is I have no idea what they want from me.” Glancing at her and getting no reaction I continue., “I feel like I’m being watched.” I don't mention the knives. I know she has a duty to report and legally, this would be considered imminent danger that she would be required to share with authorities.
“Well, that is a loaded start. Has anyone else seen these men?”
“Well, no.”
“Do you know who they might be?’
Fuck. I sound like a nut. “The masks look like the same ones that Cerberus wears.”
“Cerberus. As in, the vigilante group that posts videos revealing crimes and sneaky shit people do in Axton Harbor?” I nod. “Okay, well, what are your thoughts on Cerberus in general? Especially with the whole seeking justice thing they have going on.” She arches an eyebrow.
“They are fine, I guess. I kind of liked what they were doing before I started seeing them everywhere.” I don't mention the club or being chased down the stairs at the office. No way am I unpacking my urges to run head first toward a red flag.
Her eyes widen. “Okay, do you feel that you are in danger?”
“Yes.” I pause, confusion filling me. If they wanted to hurt me they had the perfect opportunity at the club, and yet they didn’t. “Kind of, but not completely. It’s all very confusing.”
“Fallon, have you reported any of this to authorities?” Her features are etched with concern.
“No. I know I should, but I just,” I pause, searching for the right words. “I don’t think I trust the police to do anything.”
“Can you tell me where that is coming from?”” She poses it as a question even though she knows all about my experience reporting something to the police.
“They didn't do anything three years ago. Why should I trust them now?”
“Can you walk me through that night and what you experienced when you reported the attack?”
“Not today. I don't want to talk about that night.”
“If you don't talk about it, how are you going to get past it?”
“Not today, okay?” There is an edge to my voice. My knuckles on the glass are white and tense. I set it on the side table with my now-cold coffee.
Tilting her head, she allows the silence to linger a few moments.
“The panic attacks are getting better.” I cave and speak first. My shoulders sag. “The truth is, I still don't remember it. There aren’t even flashes of memory, just impressions?” It comes out as a question as I struggle to find the words.
“Okay, what kind of impressions?”
“Being held down, not being safe, feeling terrified, and pain; I think there was a lot of pain.”
“Mmmhmm. And you feel you are being watched now?” She maintains the same calm demeanor as always. “Do you see how it might be natural to feel keyed up?”
I take a sip of water. “Yeah, I guess that's right.”
“Let's talk about your mom.”
“Fuck, Jacy. Is today ‘dig at all the wounds’ day?”
“You don't see the connection? The last time you felt safe was with her and now she’s gone. Suddenly here are these guys who are known for digging into secrets and holding responsible parties accountable.”
I run my tongue along the inside of my teeth. Counting my breaths, I try to regain control of the spike of adrenaline that comes any time I talk about Mom. “I know she didn’t leave me willingly. She wouldn’t. I don't care what Dad says.” I’m clenching my teeth, holding back what happened before she left, what she had to do for me. “And like you said, Cerberus gets answers, and answers are something I would kill for. Maybe I’m hoping it really is them.”
“I am glad you brought up your father. What are your thoughts on his relationship with your mother?”
My stomach turns and my heart sinks. “Mom told me one time he was the love of her life. That their connection was something that can’t be described. She also told me he changed. He became obsessed with proving himself because she came from money and he didn't.” I scoff at the thickness in my throat. “Get this. She apologized to me. She said she was sorry for letting it get so far, that I only got to see the version of him that she loved for a brief time before his selfishness took over our lives.”
